Christmas Joy and Peace on Earth, Well Sort of
by FirstYear
Summary: A collection of Short Stories, each chap.different. The first chap is HG/RW. Followed by many of our favs including the LeStranges, Snape/Minerva, Sybil/Albus, Harry/Ginny, Neville/Luna,Rosmerta/Aberforth, Crabbe/OC and Molly/Arthur...continued for 2009
1. Hermione's Tree

**Disclaimer: Not Mine.**

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**Hermione's Tree**

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"Okay Ron, lets go." Hermione stood by the door with a wool hat pulled down over her ears and a scarf tied high on her neck nearly covering her mouth. He looked down at her too large boots seeing they were his and grinned to see her hands disappear in the sleeves of his too large coat.

"Did you remember the gloves?"

She lifted her right arm and wiggled her mitten-covered fingers at him, which he could barely see in the darkness of the sleeve.

"You sure you can breathe in there?" He stood and pulled last years Christmas jumper over his head, and then yanked on his cap. "Ok, let's go."

"Ar ou ure engh?"

He pulled down her scarf and tilted his head as he grinned at her. "I said, are you sure you are warm enough?"

"Oh, I thought you were asking me if I wanted to stay here." He smirked and stepped around her to open the door. He laughed as she tried to stomp past him only succeeding in making funny slapping sound on the tiles.

They trudged down the pavement toward the tree lot, Hermione humming Christmas carols and Ron blowing on his cupped hands, which he would then shove back into his pockets. His cheeks were soon as red as his hair as the wind caught him full in the face.

"You know, I could transfigure a tree form that potted thing in the corner. Dad always just uses something else. He says it's less messy that way."

He did not understand what she said but could tell by her eyes that shown over the scarf that it was not a good idea. He looked back up and saw the tree lot and stopped, turning around and looking at the distance they had come.

"A little tree. A tree we can put on the coffee table. Right? Like you said?"

Again, her words were garbled but he felt reassured when he saw her head bob up and down and the sounds that came out from the scarf did not sound harsh. He figured he could carry a small tree the distance. He draped his arm around her shoulder and felt her lean into him as they made their way to the last crossing before the lot.

Ronald was sure that the smaller trees hid behind the half-full lorry parked at the back of the lot. Twice he started to walk over to it when Hermione's hand would start flaying in the direction of yet another too tall tree and strange sounds would spew from the scarf. He calmly picked up one after another, stood the tree on end and thumped it to the ground to loosen the branches.

He knew better to sigh when she shook her head, and found another for him to display. Patiently he found one that seemed right and was about to give it a thump when the sales man took it from him and turned smiling at the coat.

Ron looked at his hands, now sticky from the pine tar and showing small red marks and shoved them back in his pocket to avoid her chiding him. He knew he should have worn gloves and looked down at Hermione wondering how many pairs she wore under the mittens. He allowed him self a small shiver as the wind came up behind him and pushed at his back reminding him that it was getting colder and darker and the walk back longer. Looking up he saw grey clouds gathering and knew if they did not hurry, they would be carrying the tree through fresh snow.

"This one's a fine tree Missus." The sales man grabbed the branches and ruffled them down, pulling on the ends as he thumped the stump on the ground. "Yup, not to big and full all around. No holes in this one."

Hermione nodded her head and raised a sleeve to her mouth trying to pull down the scarf. Ronald grinned at her attempts and took the tree from the man.

"I think she wants this one, right, Hon?" He looked at her head bobbing and saw the happiness in her eyes. He reached over with his free hand and pulled down her scarf.

"It is perfect, Ronald, just what I wanted." She smiled again and kept nodding at him. Pulling the scarf back up to keep her warm, he turned back to the salesman.

"Okay, so I guess she wants this one."

"Eighty pound."

"Bloody hell you say." Ron looked back at the tree and saw her head bobbing again.

"Bloody hell, eighty pounds. I could have used that bush you call a plant in the corner and saved eighty pound." He scowled at her and saw her eyes narrow and her brow wrinkle.

"Fine, here goes Christmas dinner." He reached in his pocket and pulled out seventy, then dug for his coin until he had the total. "You deliver right?"

"I have a boy with a sled, he only charges…"

"Never mind." Ron put the tree on his shoulder the best he could, letting the top drag the ground behind him as he felt Hermione's hand slide around his waist. He looked down, saw her eyes, and knew inside the scarf she had a smile for him and suddenly the tree was not so heavy.

He made it back to the apartment only needing to set the tree down twice. He glanced up the pavement the second time he had hefted it up and knew the lightness was from the lack of water and the dryness of the needles. He looked at Hermione, noticed her eyes were still on his, occasionally looking at the tree, and hoped she had not noticed the trail of green growing behind them.

Two hours later even a blind woodpecker would have noticed. Hermione stood with her hands on her hips walking in a circle around the tree tapping her wand to the palm of her hand.

"Ronald, maybe it needs water."

"It _needed_ water Hermione. Too late now, dead things don't drink."

"Well, just put the bare side to the wall."

"Which one?"

Hermione looked around the small apartment then walked to the far wall, pushing a chair out of the way. "This one will do, put it here."

"I meant which bare side."

They stared at each other then back to the tree as tiny snips of sound told them more needles had just hit the floor.

"Eighty Bloody pounds." Ron pouted. "I paid eighty…"

"I know Ronald. I heard." Her bottom lip trembled as she looked at the tree.

"Ah, Hermione, it's okay. I am sorry. I really don't care about the money."

"It was a tree or a good meal, now we won't have either," she said with a sniff.

"Come on." He cupped her face in his hands and bent down to kiss her lips. "You can't cook anyway so what difference does it make?"

He saw her face, and felt her stiffen at the same time the words fell out of his mouth. Swallowing hard he tried to grin knowing he could not stuff the words back in. He had tried before when caught like this and had learned just to take the 'look' .

"Hermione?"

"I am going to take a shower Ronald." She turned and stomped down the hallway as he watched her backside with a smirk. "Alone."

He looked at the tree, took out his wand, and levitated the tree to the wall for fear his touch would break more branches. He managed to use his wand to put the silver bulbs on what was left of the branches, to afraid of fire to use the lights. He found three packages of tinsel and figured it would have to be enough would hide the sight.

As Hermione was stepping out of the shower and slipping her robe on he was just finishing up and stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen." She said stepping into the room. "I love it."

She ran to him and put her arms around his neck, pulling him down and kissing both cheeks before finding his mouth. "Thank you Ronald, thank you so much."

Ron peeked over her head and looked at the tree frowning. "Umm, Hermione, it's starting to lean."

"My Dad always put a nail in the wall and tied it up so it wouldn't fall." She looked at the tree wistfully as Ronald found a hammer and transfigured a nail from the last coin left in his pocket.

While he ran twine from the nail to the tree and back to the nail Hermione took two sheets from the closet, spread them out under the tree, then took a bucket from under the sink, filled it with water and sat it next to the tree.

"Fire." She said nodding as she sat on the sofa and pulled up her feet. "Now it's perfect."

"Perfect?" Ron sat down next to her heavily and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Hermione, I hate to say his, but that is the ugliest thing I have ever seen sitting in a living room. It does not even smell like a tree"

"Don't be silly." She smiled at him. "It's Christmas."

"No really, don't you smell something?"

"It is just the tree warming. By morning the whole apartment will smell like Christmas."

"It will smell like something but I am not sure it will be Christmas."

Ronald pulled his arm from around her shoulders and looked at the tree, then standing he began to peek between the crisp limbs until he found the crushed nest that still held the remains of two slightly turning eggs. Pulling out his wand he did away with them then looked back to Hermione who now had her head lifted up sniffing the air.

"My, Gods, Ronald! Is that you?" She pinched her nose and looked at him in horror. "Meel's ike otten gg"

He grinned and sat next to her pulling her hand down from her nose. "We could go to the Burrow you know. That or Ginny invited us for dinner."

"No Ronald. This will be out first Christmas together. I want to spend it with you."

He looked back at the tree that now had a decided list to the left, and smiled as he pulled her closer.

"Ronald?" She turned her head and looked up at him. "Have I ever told you about the history of the Christmas Tree? You see, there was this man named Luther, Martin Luther…"

Ronald leaned back and pulled her over his chest and into his lap as she continued to tell the story that would become part of their Christmas Tradition. He sighed, looking at the tree and smiled knowing that tomorrow they would eat soup from a tin and half a box of crackers and find it a feast.


	2. A Tree for Rosmerta

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

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**A Tree for Rosmerta**

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Rosmerta closed the doors early that Christmas Eve. Business had been slow all day with the holiday shoppers hurrying home to beat the snowstorm that was coming. She was surprised that no one had booked a room this year, as she was usually full on the holidays. Many wizard families opted for a holiday in the mountains instead of a day spent at home.

She flicked her wand at the lights and hurried upstairs to get dressed. She planned to run down to the Hogs Head for a drink or two and hoped that Aberforth was in a better mood then he had been earlier in the day.

She quickly dressed in something more cheerful than what she wore to work in and then hurried to the window. New snow was still falling. She sighed at the sight and cursed it for keeping people away. Christmas Eve was lonely enough but in an Inn with silent and empty rooms, no meals to cook and no children to hear she found it ten times worse.

She turned and jerked her head to throw her hair back over her shoulder and grabbed her best woolen cloak, tossed it on and headed for the floo. If she knew Aberforth, he would spell the heat of the fire away to encourage more drinking. She stepped in to the fireplace and threw down the powder, shouted out her destination and a moment later stepped out in the Hogs Head.

Aberforth looked up at the sound of the floo activating and then went back to wiping glasses. Rosmerta smiled and walked over to him, letting her hips sway and feeling her silk skirt hit the back of her legs.

She pulled out her wand and pointed it at his cloth, then with a laugh flicked it clean. "As much as it bothers you old man, some people prefer you to use a clean rag to actually clean the glasses."

"Don't clean um lass." He looked up and smirked at her. "Gives me a reason to stand where I can see the door and the floo both."

"You could see just as well if you actually cleaned them you know." She sat on one of the high bar stools turning slowly to see whom else were in the room. "Gods Aberforth, you have no business either. What, has the whole town gone dry?"

"Nah, not dry." He looked at her with his eyebrow raised.

"It's that new place they opened. Over on the other side of the lake."

"The one at the station? I thought it wasn't opening until spring?"

"Nah, decided to cash in on the Christmas trade. Not that I care."

"No, you wouldn't." She looked behind the bar and chose a drink. "Give me vodka tonight. I feel like a change."

He poured the clear liquid in a glass, then hearing her clear her throat he looked up as she bit her lip and held up two fingers, then quickly added a third. Chuckling he filled the glass to the rim and pushed it back at her.

"I take it you are alone tonight?"

"Yep." She tossed back half the glass, and then coughed into her hand. "Gods, Aberforth, least you could get some of the good stuff in here."

"At least you could drink like a lady."

"Fine, do this again only dirty three glasses." She laughed as he shook his head and went back to wiping glasses.

The scraping of a chair against the floor made both of them look at the only couple in the bar. They watched as the wizard picked up her cloak and placed it on her shoulders, and then he bent down and kissed her cheek. He winked at Aberforth as he led her to the door and opened it for her.

"Isn't that sweet." Rosmerta sighed turning back to Aberforth.

"Not his wife." Aberforth frowned at the door. "Wife's at home."

"It's still sweet."

"Wasn't what you thought a few years ago when…"

"Stop it Aberforth." She picked up her glass and drained it. "I told you to do this again."

"Don't you take that attitude with me." He scowled as he filled her glass again.

"I was eighteen you arse, eighteen and in love." She grabbed the glass from him and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Been others, one special I thought." Aberforth leaned forward on his forearms looking at her closely. "Where is he now?"

"He is in Albania. Been there a year now." She picked up the glass and brought it to her lips, then stopped and set it back down. "Who am I fooling? Been almost two years now. He used to send an owl maybe once a month, now I don't even hear from him. He isn't coming back, and even if he does I won't be on his list of people to see."

"Just you and me then." Aberforth went back to wiping the glasses.

"Tell me Aberforth, when you were a child did you have Christmas Trees?"

"Course we did. Foolish question. Had one every year, every year that my sister was still with us." He nodded and frowned at her. "She loved her tree you know. I would put one outside for her. Right where she could see it from her window. Sort of calmed her ya know."

"We never did. Have a tree a mean." Rosmerta shrugged her shoulders. "My Mum wasn't allowed. Always asked after one, I did."

"Haven't put one up myself for…" Aberforth looked at the ceiling. "Well, leave it at that. It is time you left. Business is slow and I want to sleep."

Rosmerta laughed and finished her drink. Standing, she felt the room shift just a little, and grabbed the bar to put it right.

"Don't think you should floo like that. No telling where you may come out." Aberforth reached behind him and grabbed his cloak from the hook. "Come on girl. I'll walk you home again."

"Thanks Abe." She giggled seeing his scowl. "My tongue has trouble with all that name you carry. Specially after finishing that shite you call vodka."

"Wasn't so bad it wouldn't go down now was it?" He picked up her cloak from the floor and draped it over her shoulders muttering about drunken witches and well-deserved headaches as he fastened the clasp at her neck and tugged her toward the door.

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Rosmerta woke up early on Christmas morning reaching for the alarm clock before it could go off and send an iron spike into her brain. _Gods_, she thought, _never again_. She remembered the story that went around when she was a teenager. The older students said that vodka would not leave a hang over. She put her hand to the bridge of the nose and wondered if the story was still going around and thought they should put something on the front page of the Prophet to let them know better.

She sat on the edge of the bed wanting a drink of water so badly that she knew if she did not get one soon she would die. Trying to walk keeping her heels from hitting the floor and send jolts to her head she made it down to the kitchen. Standing by the sink and raising the glass of water to her mouth she froze, and looked outside her kitchen window.

She set the glass down and opened the back door, leaned against the frame, and crossed her arms over her chest to look at the tree that she knew Aberforth had left.

It was a tall tree. Tall and full. It was topped with a star that shimmered a silvery light. Tiny lights shinned though real icicles that hung from each branch, and golden orbs glowed warmly, hidden in the greenery.

She turned to start breakfast knowing he would come down to the Three Broomsticks for breakfast, as he did every Christmas morning. She knew she would not mention the tree, and he would not ask after it. And she knew she would no longer be lonely on this beautiful Christmas morning.


	3. Molly's Last Tree

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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**Molly's Last Tree**

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"No. Arthur. Really I mean it." Molly scowled at him over the rim of her teacup.

"Molly, the kids all look forward to our Christmas Trees."

"No, Arthur." She set the cup down and leaned over, patting his hand. "They really don't. They just say that to make you happy."

"They do not," Arthur huffed. "Why just last year Charlie walked to the back and helped me pick one out."

"I know. He lost." Molly stood up to start clearing the table. "They drew cards from a deck. Lowest got Dad."

"Lowest?" Arthur shoulders slumped as he lowered his head to frown at the table.

"That's not all." She turned her back to him and tried to hide her face as she covered her mouth to hold in the laughter.

Arthur, seeing how her shoulders shook, walked up behind her and kissed the top of her head.

"The winner," She gasped between wheezing laughs, "The winner…had to …had to clean the floo."

"There-there, dear." Arthur patted her shoulders. He never knew what to do when she was like this only that it was bad. He hadn't heard her cry this hard for a long time.

"It will be fine this year, maybe they will all make it home after all."

"Oh gods." She turned around in horror, grabbing his lapels and shaking him. "You don't mean it. Tell me you don't mean it."

"I'll floo them right now and ask them. No I will demand it."

Molly ran to the floo and stood in front of it throwing her arms open to block any chance he had. "No Arthur, they need to set their own traditions. You know, like when we got married."

"My mum cried for a week." He scowled and shook his head. "No Molly I won't put you though that. I know how hard this must be for you."

"Put me through it please." She put her hands together and pleaded.

"Molly, if I didn't know you better I would think you didn't want them here."

"Arthur, I am shocked at you. How could I not want to have a house full of grown children, their wives and husbands, their in-laws and all the grandchildren, nieces, nephews and even the pets they drag… bring with them."

"Molly, did they really use cards?" He put his hands on her shoulders and asked her softly.

"Only last year, Dear. The year before that they used straws." She patted his hand and took the floo powder with her as she walked back to the kitchen.

"I could just charm the fern again." He looked sideways at the fern next to the door.

"I don't think it has another year in it, Arthur. Just look at the poor thing."

Arthur walked over to the door and leaned down to study the brown spots on the leaves. "You know, out in the shed I have a tree the Muggles use. I have always wondered what it would look like, would you mind?"

"Does it dry out and drop pieces all over the floor. No? Fine then, go get it."

Molly poured herself another cup of coffee thinking she may get used to this stuff and have it in the mornings instead of tea.

She went to the fridge and took out a chicken, hearing Arthur setting up in the living room. She smiled as she seasoned the bird, put it in the oven, and then prepared the carrots and parsnips to roast. She had made an apple pie the day before, and had a bottle of wine chilling, now looking around the kitchen she was surprised she had finished in minutes.

Peeking around the doorframe and seeing Arthur on his hands and knees, she ran up the stairs to change for dinner. Sighing when she was unable to fit in the dress she had worn all those years ago on their first Christmas, she took up her wand to start the alterations.

"You don't have to bother with that you know." Arthur leaned in the doorframe smiling at her. "It is how I see you every Christmas. You wore that and a string of pearls and those blue shoes you bought in Diagon."

She looked up at him and bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears. "I wanted it to be perfect for you."

He smiled and straightened up, holding out his hand. "Come on witch, it already is. Let's celebrate."

She went to him, took his hand, and walked down the stairs as they had all those years ago. Standing in the doorway to the living room, they stopped to take in the sight of the silver Muggle tree.

"Arthur?" She said sweetly, looking up at him. "You know I love you dear."

He looked from her to the tree and then back to her.

"I promise. No more trees." He leaned down to kiss his wife for the first time in over thirty years, under the mistletoe with no one to watch. It was the second best Christmas he could remember.


	4. Harry's Tree

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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**Harry's Tree**

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Harry got home late that night. He had been shopping in Diagon Alley and the shops were much more crowded than he had expected them to be. He hung his coat on the hook by the door smiling as the smell of roast chicken came to him.

"Smells great Ginny." He called into the kitchen, waiting for a response. "I got caught in the stores but I think I remembered everything."

He walked into the living room and saw her sitting in front of the tree with her family albums out in front of her. Tears collected in her eyes, and she wiped them with the back of her hand before looking up at him and trying to smile.

"Ah, Ginny." He squatted down in front of her and cupped her face in his hands. "You promised not to do this."

"It's not just my brother. It is all of them. So many won't be here."

"I know." He sat down with her on the floor and took the picture from her hand. Remus smiled and waved then leaned over that took Ted from his mother, held him up to the camera and grinned. Harry watched three times before he laid the picture down and took the next one up Ginny offered.

This one was of all the Weasley's on their Egypt trip. The one he had first seen years ago. He looked up a Ginny and smiled, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

"I know Ginny, it will get easier."

She handed him a picture of her uncles and pointed to which one was which, as she did every time he looked into the faces of Fabian and Gideon. He looked at the pile in front of her and knew he would see Dumbledore, Sirius, and his parents. He looked up at her and used the pad of his thumb to push away the tear that clung to her eyelash.

"You know who is not here. I can't remember his face?"

"Collin." Harry nodded and looked down. "He is here you know, behind the camera. As long as we remember that…"

"Let's eat." Ginny stood up quickly. "I want tonight to be happy. I want to remember our first Christmas Eve together as the best we ever have."

"I bought presents. I know you said not to, but it is what I wanted. I have all that gold sitting up in Gringotts and wanted to buy presents."

"Harry, my Mum and Dad don't have much. They do what they can, but they will feel odd if you got them something expensive. They will think they have to give something expensive back." She chewed her bottom lip and looked at him from the corner of her eyes. "Dad is worried about Mum this year. It's the first year we are all gone."

"We can floo over in the morning. I miss your Mum's breakfasts." He ginned at Ginny as she put the dinner on the table.

"I told them we may stop over tonight."

"Umm," Harry pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. "I have something I need to do Ginny."

"Tonight? Harry, its Christmas Eve." She stopped and looked up at him.

"I know." He said softly as he sat down to the table and put a piece of chicken on his plate.

Ginny sat down in her place opposite him and handed him a bowl with roast potatoes and carrots. "Did you want me to come?"

"No, I think I have to do this myself."

"If you need me…" She stopped when she saw his face turn up to hers. "Well, I want a nice hot shower anyway. I gets as cold in here as Hogwarts when the wind is blowing."

"I won't be late. I may return in time to make it to the Burrow."

"No, I will floo Mum and tell her maybe for Christmas breakfast. I can try to get the others to make it. Percy is in town at least. Maybe his new girlfriend will come with him."

"Don't promise your Mum. Let it be a surprise. Bloody Hell, we could bring twenty and she would still have enough."

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Harry pulled his collar up high around his neck as he stood looking up at the small house where he had spent his childhood. He stepped back into the shadows under a burnt out street light and reconsidered coming here.

He saw the front door open and his Aunt and Uncle turn back to talk to Dudley, before getting in their car and driving down the snow covered road. They would be going to church he thought. They would sit in pews, fall on their knees, give thanks, and ask for blessings. He wondered what child now would stand by the back door and refuse to kneel to a god that had forgotten him.

He watched the red tail lights grow smaller until they disappeared from sight and slowly walked up to the door and knocked. Dudley opened the door and stared at him, then stepped back and allowed him to enter.

"I am surprised to see you Harry." Dudley looked behind his cousin nervously. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, quite alone." Harry stepped in boldly, hoping his own nervousness did not show. "I wanted to stop by, for just a minute and …. I guess to say Happy Christmas."

"Yeah?" Dudley looked at him suspiciously.

"Yeah," Harry grinned at him. "Know what's even odder? I brought you something."

"Me?" Dudley stepped back.

"Yeah you big ox, come on out to the table, I'll show you."

Harry walked back to the kitchen not taking off his shoes and smiling at the thought of his Aunt clutching her chest seeing footprints on her pristine floor. He pulled a parchment from his pocket and unrolled it on the table, looking up at Dudley who was hanging back at the door.

"Come on, this won't hurt." He grinned and then found himself joining laughter that came from Dudley.

"What is it?" Dudley stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry looking down at the parchment.

"Let's start at the bottom." Harry pointed to his own name, and then moved it to the right, showing Dudley his own.

"We share grandparents." His finger raised past _Lily_ and _Petunia_ to the next level.

Dudley pulled out a chair and pushed Harry's finger away looking up to the top of the page seeing generations gather in front of his eyes. "It's your family tree. Well part of it right Harry?"

"Well, yes and no. It is yours as well. I've been researching it for the last couple of years."

"Mine?" Dudley frowned down at the parchment.

"Yeah, and your children."

Dudley looked up and locked his eyes on Harry's, nodding and finally looking back down to the table.

"Umm, Harry. Do you have a minute?"

"I think I should be gone before they get back, but yeah a minute or two."

Dudley hurried from the kitchen and to his room. Harry could hear the noise of things hurled on the floor and furniture scrape above the ceiling. He shook his head and rolled his eyes knowing that Dudley still did not keep his room neat and what his aunt would say seeing the mess.

He looked to the doorway as he heard Dudley running back down the stairs. He came back into the kitchen carrying a battered package, still wrapped in holiday paper, but slightly torn and dirty.

"I, well, that last year… I thought that maybe you would be back… you know… I… here." He shoved the package at Harry then put his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Bloody hell, I don't know why I kept it all these years. I don't even know why I bought it back then."

Harry sat down heavily and looked at the present in his hands. He carefully pulled the paper back and found a complete calligraphy set with a dozen tips and pots of coloured inks.

"I knew you didn't use the new pens and this…. I don't know… I just… I wanted…" He shrugged and looked at Harry biting his lip.

"Thanks Dud." Harry looked up at him, willing the sting of tears threatening to spill to stop.

"Well," Dudley coughed into his hand. "Mum won't stay for the whole mass. Just wants to show off her new outfit…. so, maybe…"

"Sure Dud, I have to be shoving off anyway." He walked to the door clutching the gift to his chest and opened the door welcoming the cold that hit his face, forcing him to suck in a breath. He tipped his head to the sky and closed his eyes squeezing back his tears before he hurried from the house.

"Harry!" Dudley called down the pavement to him. "Happy Christmas."

Harry turned back and saw him standing at the door. He wiped the tears from his face he was unable to stop then raised his own hand in return. "Happy Christmas Dud, and thanks. Thanks for everything."


	5. A Christmas What?

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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**A Christmas What?**

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"Listen Vincent, I don't want to spend the holidays with you any more than you want me to." Brenda put her hands on her hips and glared back at him.

"I never said I didn't want you here. I just said you were stupid." Vincent frowned playing back what he had just said.

"I don't mean stupid, stupid. I mean you do stupid things." Vincent frowned deeper. "I mean, sometimes I …"

"Great, now you are going to explain." She rolled her eyes and looked to the ceiling. "Don't bother, just help me get the tree."

Brenda tossed him a pair of heavy gloves and then wrapped her red and green striped scarf around her neck twice, threw one end over her shoulder and struggled to pull a matching knit hat over her ears. He looked at her and scowled.

"Can't an elf do this much easier?"

"NO!" She ground out though clenched teeth. "This is fun."

"Yeah, I forgot that part." He hung his head and followed her to the front door.

A swirl of cold air hit him in the face as he stepped outside and hurried down the pavement to follow his cousin. The snow had fallen with a fair amount of moisture in the air, creating a white landscape on the grounds. The heavy wet snow stuck to the pavement like a spitball stuck to the wall when thrown at Binns. The snow on the pavement was a soggy mass of ooze that splattered out from his footfalls and left his feet cold and wet.

Brenda took off across the grounds intent on reaching the low rise at the edge of the unplottable marker. Vincent's eye travelled instead to the matching set of evergreens that flanked the gates. Sighing he turned and followed her, muttering under his breath about oft seen relatives and what they could do with their trees.

"I can hear that you know." Her voice carried back to him, visible in the cold frosty air, as if held in the frozen white puffs, waiting to slap his face as he walked near.

A full hour later, they stood side by side looking at what she considered the perfect tree. It was tall, and full, bushy and thick. The scent was of pine and up North County in the fresh air. She smiled, enraptured by the sight.

Vincent felt a prickling start in the back of his nose. He swiped at his face with a gloved hand, fighting with the too large fingers to pinch his nose as his sneeze echoed thru the clearing.

"Allergies." He sneezed again.

"Prefect."

She turned a watched him without saying a word as he sneezed again. Pulling out her wand, she looked at him and grinned.

"What?" He backed up from her. "I told you, allergies."

She flicked the wand at his nose. "Consider it an early Christmas gift. Now cut."

"Tell me again why we are doing this." Vincent groused as he took his wand to take down the tree.

"To hang the decorations on." She sighed loudly.

"I get that part, but why?"

"So it looks pretty."

"You know what I mean."

"It's a tradition. We put a tree in the house, decorate it, and put the gifts under it." She explained once again.

"Why a tree?" He frowned as he watched the tree fall to its death. "I don't get it."

"It symbolizes life." She smiled at him, as if bestowing a gift on a mentally challenged child.

"I just killed it." He said flatly looking at the tree laying on the ground.

"No you fool, I mean the everlasting life and faith in God."

"That's what you said last spring when Mum made me help you stick the eggs in coloured water." He looked up at her pleased he caught her lie.

"Just get it in the house." She stomped back the way they came leaving him with a twelve foot soon to be naked hulk of wood to drag back home. Wishing he had paid better attention in spell class he started to drag the thing back wondering when the 'we,' would come into play.

The sun was starting to set when she heard a racket in the hallway and rushed out to see him standing with what she assumed was the tree. It was flat on one side, and the top no longer pointed, but lay hanging to the side. She looked at Vincent to ask him what had happened and decided not to at one quick glance of his face.

"We can put it against the wall."

"Fine." He said glaring at her.

"We can put it in the library instead of the sitting room. The ceilings are not so high."

"Fine." He sneezed.

"Dopey!" He yelled and was glad to see the elf arrived before the words were fully out of his mouth.

"Library, now." He pointed at the thing on the floor and back at elf. "Don't ask, I've tried."

He trudged slowly up the stairs with a slight limp and a shudder, to find a dry set of clothes and returned downstairs hoping for a hot meal. Dopey shook his head sadly when Vincent reached the kitchen and informed him dinner was to wait and be eaten in front of the tree.

"So," he said walking into the library. "Is everything… what is that?"

"It's the tree you dope." Brenda smiled down from the ladder. "Pretty?"

"I just don't get it."

"Listen Vincent. It's easy. We do this to celebrate Jesus' birthday."

"With a dead tree."

"With a Christmas tree you idiot."

"I don't think they had these tress where he lived." Vincent felt the prickling again.

"Vincent." She warned him without saying another word, and then flicked her wand at his nose again.

"And we give each other presents because…." He really tried to get it, he wanted dinner.

"To show our generosity and love for each other?" She frowned and bit her lip.

"And what is that?" He pointed to a figure of top with a golden halo and wings.

"Umm, it's an angel." She said meekly.

"Get out…"

"Listen Vincent…"

"No, I get it now." He smiled and walked up to the tree and turned back to her.

"You believe that God's son was born on a certain day, in the middle of country that was mostly desert, at a time everyone even his own people wanted to kill him. He was poor, suffered his whole life until they nailed him up and killed him only to have him get back up."

"I wouldn't put it that way, but yeah, I guess _you _would see it that way." She was not sure what point he was making.

"So to honour him, you kill a tree, load it up with bits of plastic, turn his messengers into fairies with wings, stick then on top of a dead tree and give each other gifts you don't want or like." He frowned looking up at the tree. "I don't get it."

The next morning Brenda got up and ran to the library wanting to see if her parents had sent her a present. She threw open the door and gasped.

A breakfast table was set in the middle of the room. It was laden with figs, apricots, and steaming tea in tall crystal glasses. A bowl of coloured eggs and a birthday cake fought for the most attention at the centre of the table.

The corner where the tree had stood now held a palm tree on a bed of sand. Suspended over its top, floating in the air was a single star, while at the base a single red rose lay.

"It seemed more fitting. " Vincent smiled and handed her his gifts.

"Git." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Happy Christmas."


	6. Snape's Tradition

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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**Snape's Tradition**

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Severus Snape walked slowly down the hallway to his chambers, rubbing the back of his neck and taking smaller steps than his long legged stride usually did. It was times like this, when the pain became too much that he cursed Poppy and Minerva for pulling him back from the brink of death.

He slowly raised his wards, scowling when he felt them tampered with. Holding his wand loosely, in duelling mode, he entered his chambers keeping his back close to the wall. Severus did not like surprises, whoever had broken his wards he planned to catch and punish.

His nose twitched, at once assaulted by the smell of pine. He could hear soft music coming from somewhere overhead, and in front of him stood an eight-foot pine tree with twinkling lights and shining orbs.

"Fuck!" He grimaced at the sight and flicked his wand at it only to have the spell rebound and take his favourite chair away.

He headed for the floo and fell to his knees, grimaced in pain, and then shoved his head into the green fire and yelled loudly for Minerva.

"What is wrong with you?" Minerva smirked at him, folding her arms and looking down at the fire.

"I want this abomination out, and I want it out now."

"Which abomination would that be?"

He rose on his knees and looked around quickly. Which? Seeing nothing else amiss but feeling a coldness creep up his back, he lowered his head again.

"This thing, this thing that sits in the middle of the room. This Muggle invention of a decoration for a celebration I do not condone. This , this…"

"Christmas Tree Severus? You can say it. It sort of rolls off the tongue."

"Fine, I want this…this Christmas Tree gone."

"You do enjoy the music then?"

"No, that as well. I want it all gone."

"Now Severus, it is this or the Baron has other plans. You know, like in the Muggle story."

"Which story?" He again sat back on his heels and looked at the bookcase in the corner, his eye going to the bottom shelves.

"Dickens." He sneered and put his head back in the fire. "You can assure him and that Grey Lady he still lusts after that I have a new spell to vanquish him for good. I will not hesitate to use it Minerva."

"Severus! You will do not such thing to him."

"Fine, I will only use it on his Lady, when he has no skirt to chase he will leave."

"It is your turn to hold dinner. We will be there at six."

"My turn for what?"

"Dinner Severus, Christmas dinner."

"What are you talking about old woman?" He felt the coldness that was creeping up his back settle on his neck.

"We have not forced the issue for the past several years due to your being called away unexpectedly. However, now that Voldemort is gone, and can no longer interfere, you must take your turn."

"I miss him already." Severus pulled his head from the floo and crawled to his sofa, pulling him self to a sitting position he rubbed his knees.

The music still softly filled the chambers with songs of good cheer as he painfully stood and headed for the shower. He heard the crashing of cymbals as he stepped into the shower and the trumpets blared louder as he turned on the water. _My gods_, he thought, _she even thought to magic the volume._

He took a long hot shower, hoping to ease his pain, and to forget what awaited him in the next room. He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door to walk into his bedchamber and dress when he saw four pairs of eyes looking at him.

"I must say my boy," Pomona said looking at his legs. "You really need to get more sun."

Poppy stood with her hands on her hips looking at him with narrowed eyes. "I told you to use that salve on those scars. Now, here you are, still unhealed after all this time."

Minerva chuckled and took hold of Sybil's shoulder turning her away from Severus. "My dear boy, I do hope you planning on wearing more than that. Sybil is red already."

Sybil stood craning her neck around trying to see what Minerva had turned her from seeing.

Severus clutched the towel firmly and took two steps backwards then slammed the door closed. He laid his head against the door and wondered why he had left his wand on the mantel and how he could get at it. A soft pop behind him made him jump and spin around to find an elf holding his clothes.

"Give those to me you troll." He angrily snatched the clothes from the trembling elf and started to put them on. "Why are you in my quarters?"

He looked at the elf and back at the door. "Forget it, for this evening it is most appropriate."

He finished dressing and looked back at the elf as his hand was on the doorknob.

"Are you serving dinner?"

"Yes Master Sir."

"What will it be, how many courses?"

"We have starters already on trays. They eat now."

"Then what?"

"Soup, a nice soup with many fishes."

"Go on," he said impatiently.

"A fine roast of beef, roast potatoes and …"

"Desert?"

"Yes Master… a very nice…"

"Fine, serve the soup and put their deserts in boxes. They can take them when they go."

"Sybil," he said walking into the room. "I am sure you have already seen how this evening ends.

He continued walking to the door to the hallway and opened it as she followed him ranting about dark visions and death. He pushed her into the hallway and closed the door behind her hearing her footfalls hurry away from the impending doom.

"She gives her apologies." He smirked as he strode to the table and sat down.

"Severus, that was uncalled for." Minerva suppressed her grin.

"Not as uncalled for as this menu you have put together." He looked as Pomona shovelled another spoon full of the soup into her mouth.

"What ever is wrong with it?" Poppy looked at the bowel in front of her. "It is quite tasty."

"For one with no allergies to shell fish I would agree." His eyes still locked on Pomona's swelling lips. "However from my estimation you have less than five minutes to rectify the situation."

Calmly he laid down his spoon and taking two boxes of desert stood by the door and waited for them as Poppy began to levitate a gasping Pomona before her. Shoving the boxes on top of Pomona's body, he held the door open until they were in the hallway them slammed it shut behind them.

"Severus, it is Christmas. Just once a year you could observe our tradition."

He smirked at her, flicked his wand, sending the table off and then walked to the liquor cabinet, and took a full bottle and two glasses. Setting them on the coffee table, he turned to Minerva.

"For the past 20 years we have sat on this night and drank. That is my tradition, and one I will not change."

She laughed and walked over sitting on the sofa and poured the amber liquid into the glasses. "Then come and join me."

He walked around the tree and actually smiled. "Minerva, if you rid the music I can live with this thing."

She raised her hand and muttered an incantation putting an end to the Christmas Carols only to see him pick up the tree and shove it into the fireplace as far as he could. Kicking it further in, he brushed off his clothes and joined her on the sofa.

"A Yule log, Minerva." He raised his glass and saluted the day then leaned back to finish their yearly tradition. They would sit and talk, and drink until the bottle was empty, then he would walk behind her as she tried to stagger to her chambers.

He would pick her up, and carry her to her bed, she falling asleep before they reached her bed. He would pull up the coverlet and leave a small package at the foot of her bed after tenderly covering her. Then. he could return to his chambers and sleep without dreams, and for one night forget his pain.


	7. Neville's Tree

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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**Neville and the Tree**

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Every year Neville and his grandmother would decorate the perfect tree. I took them days to get it just right. Each light positioned to shine on a soft blue or a mother of pearl white bulb. Each piece of tinsel hung evenly. Each side of the draped silver thread the same, each number of them the same on each limb. It was perfection.

Neville watched his grandmother carefully shrink the tree down, a little at time, to fit into the specially designed box, which had held each tree for the last twenty-three years. Only when they were certain it sat in its nest securely would they walk with it to a Muggle road, and there a prearranged taxi would wait for them. On his grandmother's stern warning the cabbie would creep along the streets applying even pressure to the brakes and making no sudden stops.

The tree would eventually reach its destination on the oft forgotten wards at St. Mungo's where the Longbottoms had sat for the past twenty-three years waiting for something they could not remember. They would sit stiffly in chairs, Alice twisting tiny pieces of paper that she would thrust out at Neville or hide in his pockets hiding her face and giggling when she caught, while her husband stared straight ahead, unblinking and often unmoving.

Neville would start the conversation, his Grandmother joining in less and less each year, until as of late she would kiss her son and his wife and quietly sit dabbing at her eyes. This year, he told his mother of his new apartment, his new job and how he was learning to make Sheppard's Pie as she had made hers. He would give his father the latest sports scores and put the Prophet in his lap, pretending he could still hold it.

An hour into the day his Grandmother would stand and leave the room, "To give you time alone," she always said as she stepped into the hall.

This year Neville leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and looked into his mother's eyes.

"Mum, I want to get married. She is a lovely girl. I think you would like her." He licked his lips and looked down at the floor. "Some think she is strange, but I guess no more then me."

He looked back up at her and willed her to look at him, for just a moment to see clarity to her eyes. "Do you remember the Lovegoods? Yes? It's their daughter, Luna."

He turned to his father and grinned. "She's coming to meet you today. I told her all about you and she is really excited. Well… she gets somewhat excited about all sorts of things. One of the reasons I … I love her."

"Neville?" Luna called his name gently from the doorway. "It is okay for me to come in? Have you told them?"

He got up and took her elbow, leading her back to his chair and holding it until she sat down, then stood behind her and made the introductions.

"It has been a long time since I lost my own mother," she said to Alice, smiling sweetly. "She was a quiet witch. Not much given to gossip. I see you are the same way."

"Umm, Luna?" Neville patted her shoulder. "You do remember what I told you?"

"Of course Neville."

"Mum doesn't talk."

"That's what I said dear, my Mum was quiet also."

Luna looked around the room and noticed the table set up with tea and biscuits for the guests. Standing up and crossing over to it, she filled a small tray with four mugs of tea before starting back.

Neville would wonder for years after if it was the corner of the carpet, Luna's brightly coloured shoes or his own inattention that caused the mishap. However, as the tray and the tea seemed to float through the air and land on the Christmas tree he could only think of Grams.

"Oh my, something tripped me."

Luna got down on her hands and knees, peeking under the chairs and beds, lifting the edge of the drapes and peeking behind them. Finally sighing loudly, she looked up and saw Neville's horrified expression as he looked at the tree. His mouth was opening and closing with no sound coming out, as his hands raked through his hair.

She calmly rose and pulled out her wand and reduced the tree back to its original condition, sans decorations and size.

"There that is better." She smiled and tilted her head to the side. "It only needs a few bobbles."

"Bobbles?"

Luna's laugh filled the room as she put her hands to her ears and removed the bumblebee earrings that she wore. Fastening them to the tree she then lifted off her necklace of Butterbeer caps, using her wand to extend its length, she draped them as well.

"Now, isn't that better?" She smiled up at Neville who was looking over his shoulder watching his mother.

Alice put a hand into the pocket of her robe, pulled out a candy wrapper, twisted it into a bow, and reached forward to place on the tree, then to Neville's complete and utter surprise, she looked at him and smiled.

She only did it once, before leaning back in the chair. She did it so quickly that Neville would often think, during that first year, he had imagined it, but not the look. He would never forget the clear look in her eyes as she then turned to look at Luna and smiled again.

From that year on they would take a small tree with them, and sitting on the floor they would twist small bits of paper until all the branches were filled with empty chocolate kisses. His mother helped with the decorations and on occasion reached up to pat her husbands knee.

They would stay until the tea was gone and visiting hours long past, then Neville would kiss his parents goodbye and take his strange and wonderful wife back home.


	8. Bellatrix's Christmas

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**

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**Bellatrix's Christmas**

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**

Bellatrix turned and looked this way and that over her shoulder, twisting to see in herself in the bedroom mirror. She wanted the seams in her stockings absolutely straight. She wetted her thumb in her mouth and drew it over one seam at a time, to flatten and further straighten them until she was sure they were just the way she wanted them.

She threw her self in front of her vanity to double check her hair, rearranging the red ribbons she had threaded though her curls and laughed as she shook her head to let the bells at the end of each ribbon jiggle merrily. Leaning into the mirror, she pursed her lips and turned her head, looking from the corner of her eye as she moved a candle to offer light from every angle. When she was sure the same high gloss was evident no matter which way she happened to turn her head she stood and sauntered to the door, laughing a deep-throated full laugh as she stepped out to the hallway and headed for the floo.

Rodolphus looked up from his chair where he sat with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, reading his evening paper. "It's going to be cold out," he said turning back to his paper.

"I'm using the floo." She rolled her eyes at him as she continued to the fireplace. "So, how do I look?"

He peeked over the top of the paper and looked at her too tight bodice with its too full flowing skirt in reds and greens, trimmed in shimmering gold and smirked, lifting the paper back up.

"Well? I asked you a question."

"The stockings make you look like a Muggle hooker, the skirt makes you look fat and the top calls attention to fact that gravity is becoming unkind to you."

"You are mean." She crossed her arms and pouted.

"Narcissa will love it." His voice came from behind the rustling paper.

"Narcissa throws a lovely party. You should come," she whined in yet another attempt to make him change his mind.

"Last year, when I fetched you from the lake, you said you would never go again. The year before you said you hated her Christmas parties and the year before that I had to fetch you from the Hogs Head when you got blind drunk and left in a huff. No, thank you dear. I will wait here for the call from the Aurors to fetch you."

"She's going to serve only finger food. You know not a real sit down dinner this year."

"That's nice dear. It should keep you off of Lucius' lap."

"That's not the reason you oaf."

"Of course not."

"She said she would be careful not to over do the warming charm too. You know how hot it gets with all the drinking and dancing and stuff."

"So, she wants you to keep your clothes on this year? No striptease to Frosty the Snowman? No wonder you are not wearing the top hat."

"It was not a striptease, it was a pantomime. How else was I to show how hot he got when he melted? She was just sore her side lost!"

"I see."

"She also said I didn't even have to help with the decorations this year."

"I told her after I had to pay for six elves that if she every let you do it again I would hex the nads off Lucius."

"They were cute with those little hats and curled shoes. How was I to know that they would take being Santa's Elf serious and take their freedom."

"Right. Who would have guessed."

"She is serving eggnog and cider. She says it was her fault I drank too much."

"It is that or lock Draco in a closet. From what I understand he is at the age he may take you up on your yearly offer of a Christmas surprise." He smirked at her.

"Andromeda is going to be there."

Rodolphus laid the paper down and looked at her oddly. "Bella, that cannot sound right even to you."

"Christmas is a time for family. Cissy said so just this morning."

"Yes, but she means someone else's family. Bella, you cannot think the rest of your family would be there."

"You are being mean to me," she pouted and lowered her head, looking up through her lashes at him.

"No, I would be mean to Narcissa in allowing you to go. However, I do not feel charitable tonight, so have a good time dear."

"Now stop that. If you can't say something nice at least say it to someone else."

"I'll remember to floo your bother-in-law in the morning."

"Cissy says she will have a tree this year. We never have a tree, well just that one, but Snape burnt it."

"Another holiday to remember," he said with a sigh and snapped his paper back in front of his face.

"Okay, it's your choice to sit at home while we party."

"Bella," he reached in his pocket and handed her a coin, "here, I have a port key for you. No use getting dirty in the floo after spending so much time dressing."

"Rodolphus, I am surprised you did this for me." She raised her eyebrow suspiciously.

"Not me. Cissy sent it. It came by owl this morning."

Bella took the offering, and pulled out her wand, laying it on the table next to him.

"Cissy says I can't take it."

"Nope, wouldn't think she would. If you remember correctly…"

"Do you ever give up?" She placed the coin in her hand and looked at the clock waiting for it to activate.

"Are you sure you don't want your cloak?" He looked at her and smirked as she disappeared.

Rodolphus went to the floo and getting on his knees called for Narcissa, waited patiently until the elf brought her to the fire and then smiled widely at her.

"She just left," he said.

"Thank Merlin. Did she leave her wand?"

"I have it right here."

"I'll send her a port key to get her home as soon as the party if over."

"Narcissa, should I ask where she is?"

"Visiting some old friends. She is perfectly safe."

Bellatrix looked at the coin in her hand, then out at the North Sea as the icy wind swirled around her legs. She frowned as she shivered and thought how disappointed Narcissa would be when she did not show up at the party and how her stupid husband could not even get a port key right. Surely, he had given her the wrong coin.

She wondered if Sirius was in the same cell, and smiled as she started down the dark staircase. After all Christmas was for family.


	9. Trelawney‘s Tree

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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**Trelawney's Tree**

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Sybill sat at the top of the ladder and pulled hard to tug the tree up into the classroom. It was a short tree, only up to her waist, she had made sure not to get one as tall as she did last year. She would not make that mistake again. She had fallen twice just getting to the castle.

She stood, holding the base of the tree, now firmly stuck in the opening, planted one foot on each side of the trap door, leaned back and pulled as hard as she could. After she managed to push the tree off her chest, and stand up, she was pleased to see only a couple of branches broke. She dragged it over to the window and set it up, using her wand to stick it to the floor in a straight, or at least nearly straight, position. Smiling and humming to herself, she folded her arms and smelled in the fresh pine smell, glad she had found the tree so close to the castle. She sniffed again and shrugged, she was sure it smelled like pine outside.

Last year she had trudged almost into the Hogsmeade before finding something she liked. This year, with the help of directions from Professor Snape, she found it was right there out back, down toward the pitch. She was glad she found it so quickly. The bitter cold had iced her glasses, frozen her breath, numbed her nose and made it almost impossible for her long slender fingers to feel the needles on the tree.

She stood shivering and pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders peering at the tree wondering what she would do now. She looked around the classroom and hurried over to the teacups, shrinking them down and magically attaching them to the tree. Raising her hand and calling "Accio bangles" she caught her silver and tin bracelets as they flew to her and arranged them on the tree as well. Adding a few hoop earrings and a few scarves tied in bows she stepped back, clapping her hands and laughing in glee.

Sybill had asked the elves to bring Christmas cakes and hot chocolate at six o clock and looked up at the clock squinting to see the time hoping she had time to finish her preparations. She widened her eyes and hurried to her room to change into a red skirt and blouse, draped herself with white scarves and came back in to the tree in time to see the elves setting the tray down on a low table she had set near the tree.

She pushed a chair close to the table and sat down to wait for the elves to bring the pictures from the Headmaster's office. Minerva would be gone by now, to her annual drinking binge with Severus, but after last year Sybill had no plans to attend a meal with them again.

"Ah, my dear Sybill." Albus smiled as his picture was set up opposite her chair. "How nice of you to invite me."

"It would not be a Christmas with out you Albus." She leaned forward and tilted her head. "I think this year will go much nicer then last."

"Have you anchored the tree my dear?" Albus raised his eyebrow and tried to peak around the frame to see the tree.

"Yes, the elves should be able to reach their presents as well. It is much shorter then last year's tree."

"Fine, fine my dear. Poppy has gone for the week. Elves trapped under a fallen tree are not a pretty sight."

"I was surprised and quite happy to fine one so close." She reached to the floor and picked up a box full of silver bulbs, each etched with one of the elves name and the year. "See how pretty. Last year they were gold."

As she rose, to hang them on the tree, Albus again leaned forward and tried to peek around the frame. "I do find Christmas trees peaceful."

"Oh yes Albus. I have seen that this one will pose no threats. I did see what was going to happen last year you know. My inner eye says this one is just fine."

"So you said."

"Quite safe this year, I even checked the crystal ball to make sure. No doom to day I am glad to say." She sighed as she hung the last bulb on the tree and turned to Albus.

"Let me call the elves and then we can all have a cup of tea." She nervously twisted her hands together. "Does it look okay Albus?"

"I am sure it is fine my dear. Just turn me a little to the left. Ah, yes Sybill quite lovely."

She turned his picture fully, and then moved it a little closer to afford him a better look.

"Sybill, are you quite sure this is a pine? It looks rather… Sybill where did you find this."

"On my way to the pitch." She turned as the elves came in bowing and trying to skirt around the tree without getting too close.

"It is an odd shape for a pine is it not? Not green at all."

"Oh." Sybill looked at the tree, then at Albus, then back to the tree.

"Perhaps it would be best if you handed the elves their gifts Sybill." Albus backed away from the frame and stood behind his chair. "Better still, just leave it for now."

"Oh Albus, no hum bug from you. Now come along, let's not be shy." She pointed to the smallest elf and then to the tree. "Go on, find yours."

The Elf looked up at her, and then shot a look of horror to the others. He crouched low to the ground and put his claw up to reach for his decoration as the tree swung at him and threw him across the room with a resounding thwack.

"Oh my." Sybill looked at the elf and back at the tree.

Albus stood up from where he has hiding and looked over the back of his chair. "This is the tree that our Potions Master helped you find?"

Sybill looked at him blankly, then brought her hand to her mouth in horror. "Oh Albus, do you think this is the same kind he is taking to Minerva's this year? Do you think I should tell him?"

"I am sure it is exactly the same my dear. But no, I would not tell him. He may be embarrassed by his mistake. Now, lets have that tea." Albus smiled, thinking how this was yet another year he was not invited to Christmas dinner with Minerva.


	10. Hogwarts' Wonderland, A Christmas Song

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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**Hogwart's Wonderland**

**(Duet for the Bloody Barron and the Grey Lady)**

**(to the tune of Winter Wonderland)**

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**Peeves sings, are you listening?**

**In the halls, we smell him coming,**

**A woebegone sound,**

**and surely we are bound,**

**To run and scream in the halls tonight. **

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**Gone away, are the students**

**Here to stay we find it prudent**

**As he sings his old song**

**To quickly run along,**

**Hiding in the dark and dreary halls.**

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**In the forest we will ask the centaur,**

**If he knows just what it is Peeves does.**

**He'll say: Is he crazy?**

**We'll say: Could be,**

**But you can read the stars **

**So you tell me. **

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**Later on, we'll perspire,**

**As we hide in the fire**

**And hex unafraid, **

**The Ghosts they have made,**

**Laughing on this yearly holiday.**

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**In the dungeon we will make a new ghost**

**And pretend that Snape enjoys it to,**

**He'll be nice to even moaning Myrtle,**

**Until she screams and cries and runs in fright. **

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**When we wake, it'll be thrilling,**

**Though your back, may get a chilling.**

**We'll frolic and play, in the Ghostly way**

**Gliding though a Hogwarts Holiday. **

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AN: Happy Christmas


	11. Teddy’s Father Christmas

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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**Written for The Glass Inkwell forum's "Come in, we are open" challenge.**

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**Teddy's Father Christmas**

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At ten years old, when others his age had long since stopped believing in Father Christmas, Teddy Lupin was just beginning to think there was more to it than most of his playmates understood. Sure, he didn't believe in the red suited old man that slid down the chimneys of all the houses in the world, but what if, just what if, he used the floo?

He had his epiphany while he was having a late tea with his grandmother, and she was retelling a story about how his mother, when his age, had brought home a Muggle friend. Not knowing Muggles could not see the magical world, his Mum had pointed to the house angrily shaking her finger. It had been funny, his grandmother said, to watch his Mum point at the house with her friend thinking she had gone daft. He suddenly understood that Father Christmas could see the magical world, which explained everything.

There was not a doubt in Teddy's mind that Father Christmas was a wizard after that. It all seemed to fit. Every single fact that he had learned pointed to this simple conclusion. From the reindeer that levitated the sleigh of toys, to the elves that made them, and the fact there must be a magical list that held all the names just as the name-list at Hogwarts did. He had found his father's old spell book and even found a spell for making duplicates of an original object. A spell important if thousands of toys had to be made each year.

He took to reading a voracious amount of books on Father Christmas and traced the origins back to the third century and to the part of the world that was old by magical standards even then. However, he suspected that if Father Christmas had indeed come from this saintly man from Patara, the Muggles had mucked it up once again and confused their man of cloth with a kind and gentle wizard who was an accomplished necromancer in the old forgotten ways.

Teddy Lupin knew that Father Christmas was real and would come for the asking. What he did not know, was how to go about finding the old man.

Saturday his Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny came, dragging a tree up to the front door and greeting his grandmother warmly.

"Hey, Ted, get over here and help me," Harry called down the hallway. "I need a hand saw and the tree stand."

"It's up in the attic with the rest of the Christmas decorations," Andromeda said. "I haven't had a big tree since… well, it has been years. I think Teddy had just learned how to walk."

"Wow," Teddy grinned. "Grams, where are you going to put it?"

"Well, not on the table," she said, then pulled her wand and shrunk the end table down to fit in her pocket. "It should fit now if we push the chair over."

Ginny laid the baby down on the sofa, packing blankets around him so he would not roll off and started after Teddy to help haul the decorations from the attic.

"Would you mind if I woke him up?" Andromeda looked down at James and smiled. "It's been a long time since we have had a little one around for the holidays."

"Go ahead," Harry said over his shoulder as he positioned the tree to give it a new cut before putting it in water. "He's been sleeping for a while now. Listen, before Ted gets back, we have no idea what he wants for Christmas."

"I don't really know," she said as she put the baby on her shoulder and breathed in its scent. "He never asks for anything and with all the books his dad left I don't think he needs any more for a while."

"There is a new mod…"

"No! He has enough brooms. He can't ride all he has now and no more sports stuff, his walls are full and I won't have them hanging in my sitting room."

"It would be easier if he still believed in Santa," Harry laughed. "That way if Ted doesn't like it you could blame it on him."

"Shhh," Andromeda hushed him, cautiously glancing down the hallway as she did, "that's the problem. I think he still does."

Harry grinned and shook his head at her. "He's a bright boy. Knowing him, he thinks he will disappoint you if he lets on that he knows."

"He spends every free minute reading everything he can get his hands on about Father Christmas, and I heard him arguing with that Parkinson kid. He is teased about it you know…him being ten and all. I just do not want him to be embarrassed. I've never seen a kid so worked up about the hols before, and if you had known his mum when she was little that's saying something."

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Ginny helped Teddy push boxes out of their way as they made it closer to the corner where the old Christmas decorations were stored. She had noticed each box clearly labelled and the contents listed plainly on the tops. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she was somewhat surprised to see that Teddy paid no attention to his parent's belongings, but worked fast to reach his goal. Once he could climb over the last barrier he grabbed the tree stand and the old bucksaw that lay next to it and hurried back to the sitting room.

Sitting back on her heels, she opened the first box of decorations and saw the handmade ornaments made by a child. Pulling out a green paper wreath with the picture of a young girl glued to the centre, she smiled remembering that her mother had a least a dozen like it. She laid it down carefully and picked a reindeer fashioned from pieces of felt and an old clothespin, seeing the underside carefully notated with the date.

"Those are Mum's," Teddy said as he came up behind her. "They make Grams sad so I told her I couldn't find 'em last year. The box in the front, the one with the red writing, that's the one we use."

Ginny nodded and pulled the largest box with the red lettering closer and found it full of red bulbs and silver trim. "This should do," she smiled and started to pull it toward the trapdoor.

"Aunt Ginny?" Teddy bit his lip apprehensively. "Do you think…well, you see…Grams don't have a picture of Grandpa? All she has is some Muggle things that don't move from when he was a kid. I think… well…do you know anyone that would have a real picture of him?"

"I don't know," Ginny puzzled. "He was Muggle born so there wouldn't be any when he was really young but…"

"No, when he was old and it doesn't matter if it don't move."

"Old? I can check for you," she said as she suddenly realized what he wanted it for. "You want it in a nice frame for your Grandma? I 'm going to Diagon tomorrow and I will stop in the Daily Prophet and see if they ever did a story on his… well, I will ask them if they have one. If they do I can get you a frame for it."

"No, that's okay, just the picture," he answered quickly. "I just need a picture of him old."

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Teddy wrote his letter to Santa, folded it around the picture, slid it into an envelope and tied it around the leg of his Uncle Harry's owl. Opening the window and setting the Snowy White owl on the sill, he gave it the destination only to have the bird cock its head and look up at him in question. He repeated his command, shooing the owl off as he closed the window, and then watched as it began to peck at the glass.

"Shite," he muttered, pulling the widow open and glaring at the owl. "Try, he must have wards that let owls through. Just try, okay?"

The owl turned, lowered its head and rotated its shoulders, and dropping off the sill it appeared to fall a couple of meters before the steady beat of its wings took it soaring out of sight. Teddy watched it until it disappeared over a stand of trees, and then swallowing hard he snuck back downstairs, hoping Uncle Harry would not scold him for using the owl without permission.

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"It was nice, Harry," Ginny said with a sigh. "I thought I would miss not going to the Burrow, but having company for dinner on Christmas Eve was nice."

"Going to make for a short night," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off his shoes. "Your Mum wants us there for breakfast."

"Harry! Did you let Bridget out?" Ginny hurried to the window and let the owl in, seeing Teddy's note still tied around the owl's leg.

"No, bring it here." He took the note and read it before putting his shoes back on and grabbing his winter coat. "I have some shopping to do. I hope I can get him to open up this late."

"Harry! No one is going to open up this late on Christmas Eve."

He handed her the letter as he shoved the picture in his pocket and headed to the floo where he fell on his knees. "As much as I hate to say it, but this is one time I am going to use the Harry Potter the War Hero card."

Ginny read the letter and smiled, wishing they did not have to be at the Burrow first thing in the morning.

_Dear Father Christmas;_

_I live with my Grandmother because everyone else is dead. My Grandpa is dead to but that's okay cuz I never saw him anyway so it's not like I miss him or anything, but Grams does. _

_She talks to him all the time, but he can't talk back cuz all she has is this little Muggle picture and he was only a kid. So, even if he could talk in it wouldn't seem right._

_So, what I want for Christmas is a talking picture like Uncle Harry has in that old house of his in London. Only make Grandpa nice, not like that old lady in Uncle Harry's house. _

_Thank you _

_Teddy Lupin_

_P.S. Grams is Mrs. Tonks, that's because she is my mum's mum._

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"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," Harry muttered as he stepped into the small studio, stomping the snow from his feet.

"Come in," Marcus Metcalf laughed. "We're open. For you Mr. Potter we are always open. Now, show me what you have."

Harry pulled out the old photo, watched as Marcus laid it on the table and began to Accio tints and brushes. "I think I can get the gentleman but will not have time to do the setting justice. I would normally visit the home and see his favorite chair, or perhaps his favorite set of robes…things like that. Do you have a preference for the setting?"

"Umm, no… I … I never really knew the man."

"I see," Marcus said thoughtfully. "What type of home did he keep?"

"Well… sort of … half Muggle…I think."

"Muggle? Mr. Potter, this is quite an expense … I hate to say this, but my work does not…"

"I am paying, Mr. Metcalf," Harry frowned. "I do not see his birth as issue."

"Nor do I. However, understand that this type of painting must be cared for. Purebloods have the means to do this, wills that insure they are protected, future generations that will always know who the picture holds. It is not a commission that I take lightly. Unless I have the assurance that this will be protected I will have to…"

"The picture is of Nymphadora Tonks' father or I should say Nymphadora Lupin, Remus Lupin's wife."

"Ah, one of our fallen," Marcus sighed. "Have a seat Mr. Potter. There is a pot of tea on the table in the back. It will be a late night."

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The sky was turning from black to dark velvety blue as Harry watched Marcus wrap the picture in layers of brown paper to protect it from the weather.

"Just in time I would say," Marcus sighed then looked up to the door in surprise. "I take it you plan on a special delivery?"

Ron Weasley pushed the door open, clearly embarrassed to be dressed as Santa Clause. "Don't say it," he groused. "Your wife called mine and if I don't do this… well, just say mine is better at hexes than yours."

"You look stupid," Harry snorted.

"Yeah, well…," Ron grabbed the picture, "I need to floo. She said if I don't use the chimney she will hex off my nads."

"In the back," Marcus laughed. "However, I have heard of your wife's temper. I may want to watch."

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Teddy waited until he knew his grandmother was sleeping, then snuck down the stairs and lay on the floor next to the tree. He had tried, really tried to stay awake but had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, not waking until the floo activated. He moved back into the shadow of the sofa, watching as Father Christmas stepped out and laid a large flat, square package under the tree.

He wore a red suit, and although Teddy could not see Santa's face, he did not have to be told that he had blue eyes that twinkled when he laughed, and a nose red from the cold. Teddy wiggled, scarcely able to contain himself until Santa turned back from floo and with a chuckle, nodded, and with a _Happy Christmas_ disappeared from sight.

Teddy grabbed the picture and tore off the paper before thundering up the stairs to wake his Grandma.

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Ron stepped out into the Potter's sitting room glaring at Harry and throwing the picture he still held on the sofa.

"You better have something else up your sleeve," he grumbled. "He already has one."

END


	12. Home for the Holidays

**Disclaimer: Not mine**.

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**Home for the Holidays**

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Eileen Snape finished decorating the Christmas tree that she had put on a small table in front of the sitting room window, and then put dinner on the table. She knew Tobias would not comment on it, choosing to ignore the holiday completely, but was too tired to care, and too fed up with him to stop from having a tree this year. As long as his meal was ready and the house clean, he would keep his silence.

She was still in the kitchen when she heard his boots in the entrance way and then a minute later the telly as he turned it on. Sighing she picked up his plate and carried it into him, silently handing him his dinner, not even hearing a grunt of appreciation in exchange. Returning she sat alone at the kitchen table, pushing her food around on her plate, unable to eat.

Scraping her plate in the bin, she then washed her dishes before collecting his, replacing it with what would be the first of several beers. She used to mind his drinking, but for the past few years found it easier to just give in and give up. If she were lucky, he would fall asleep in the chair, or stumble up to bed leaving it to her. She knew he had already spent half the day in the pub, getting off work early for the holiday and buying rounds of drinks for his friends.

She fixed herself a cup of tea, adding a shot of whiskey and a spoonful of sugar, hoping to ward off the cold of the night. Then, sitting at the table, she listened to whatever show he had turned on and waited for his lumbering steps to make it upstairs. Before long she sighed, relieved as he made his way to bed, knowing she would not have to deal with him until noon tomorrow.

This would be a quiet Christmas Eve, unlike the ones before. This year she would not try to find enough money to cook a special meal, pretend that everything was fine, or get between Tobias and Severus as they fought. This year she would turn the radio on and listen to music, or find one of the Christmas Masses that aired each year from Canterbury.

She sat looking out the kitchen window thinking of Christmas Eves past and the fighting and tears that always came with them. There had been years when Tobias could not find work, and the only presents she could put under the tree were second hand clothes or homemade sweets. Severus had only looked at her sadly, never voicing his disappointment that there was not a toy, or a new book, or something new and shiny. Tobias had seen the look that passed between them and flown into a rage.

Eileen stood, rinsed out her cup, poured herself a fresh cup, and added the last of the milk. She smiled thinking of the Christmas the boy had run down the stairs to find a new bike, shouting for her to come see. She wouldn't dare to do that now, spend that much money for a present to put under the tree.

Frowning she walked back to the sitting room wondering whatever became of the bike. That was the first Christmas that she remembered feeling fear. Afraid of Tobias' fists, afraid to ever spend that much again. That was the year Severus had first matched her bruised face to his father's angry words.

She suddenly remembered that he had never used the bike, but had rather pushed it into the small walled space behind the house and never touched it again.

He had not come home in his sixth year, preferring to stay at Hogwarts, and when he was in his seventh, she had received an owl from a Mr. Mulciber informing her that Severus had been invited to stay for the holidays with his family. Now, that he had finished school and was of age she knew not to look for him.

She adjusted the radio, and turned off all the lights but those on the tree. Stepping back to look at the decorations she smiled when it looked so much better then she had thought it would. Snow had started to fall, making a backdrop for the small multi-coloured lights and the radio playing Christmas carols led to a pleasant setting. She sat down and curled her legs up under her, staring out the window through the branches of the tree.

Carols gave way to the Canterbury Mass and still she sat and watched the snow and lights. When the service was over, she stood to unplug the tree and saw a figure on the pavement looking up at the house. Pulling the curtains back, she saw a thin black-robed figure standing with his hands thrust in his pockets, long black hair obscuring his face.

Pressing her hand against the window, she felt tears sting her eyes as she stood watching her son. Then, glancing over her shoulder, she suddenly worried that Tobias would wake. She stepped back from the window, and with her hands shaking, pulled the curtains closed.

The End


End file.
